The Caregiver
by DramaGeek
Summary: Set some time after "The Name of the Doctor". The Doctor is fatally wounded and regenerates as an infant. It is up to Clara and some old friends to find a way to keep him safe.
1. The Clock Strikes Twelve

**A/N **_I've been thinking about this story since the Christmas special, but figured I should get started on it before we moved on to the real twelfth Doctor. _

_And of course, I don't own anything (although Peter Capaldi did say that "everyone made Doctor Who")._

**Chapter 1 - The Clock Strikes Twelve**

"Good morning," the Doctor said pleasantly as Clara entered the console room.

"How's that?" she asked, giving him a good natured grin. The Doctor merely stared at her in confusion. "Well, we're in the time vortex. Technically outside of time. So how can it be morning? I mean, what relevance can the time of the day even have inside a time machine?"

"You just woke up didn't you? Sounds like morning to me."

"But you were up all _night_."

"I don't need as much sleep as you humans."

"So what you're saying is if I wasn't here, it wouldn't be the morning, would it?"

"And that's precisely why I keep you around, you're little more than a time piece," he was smiling at her affectionately. She returned the smile with unguarded ease.

"Thought so. So where are we headed?"

"You tell me," the Doctor said, indicating to the console, where their next trip was already punched in. Clara studied it with a careful eye. She had been taking a keen interest in the TARDIS controls recently and was always trying to gleam a little more about his strange, blue box. While Clara studied the controls, the Doctor studied her. Several months had past since she fearlessly jumped into his timeline, and he, in turn, had jumped in after her, and since then Clara was a little... different. The most obvious change was of residence. Allowing herself a week at home, she found a new caregiver for the Maitland children, and before he knew it she was back on the ship, toothbrush in one hand, 101 Places to See in the other, and the TARDIS key securely around her neck. With a little help from old friends they had manage to rewrite his tragic and fatal future on Trenzalore, and since then they'd been traveling together full-time, paying no heed to their former day of the week restriction. The Doctor knew it wasn't just the move that seemed to change things aboard the ship. Clara also seemed freer somehow. After experiencing thousands of lives, memories, families, deaths... the Doctor thought she would feel burdened, haunted even, but the opposite seemed to be true. Somehow, his Clara, the one who was always caring for others, was finally ready to take a little bit of time for herself. And him, of course. After saving his life all through space and time, he was still, very much, her responsibility. But then again, she was his. They would look after each other, that was just a given, and maybe that's why everything had become so easy.

The Doctor's train of thought was interrupted by Clara's voice, "We're going to the future, aren't we? Compared to my time, I mean." She looked up at him, a slight hesitation in her voice, still not completely certain if she was reading the controls correctly.

"Yup."

Her initial success gave her a little confidence and what followed was more of a statement than a question, "And the place is somewhere other than Earth."

"Right again."

Clara knew she was only gleaming the most superficial of information from the controls, but she couldn't help but feel a small sense of accomplishment at what she had picked up. Even with her only human (and let's face it, still rather sleepy) brain. She'd already had a shower and drank a cup and a half of coffee, how was it the Doctor could stand there and look so much more awake? "What do you do at night?"

"Night? I thought time of day was irrelevant in the time vortex."

"Well when I'm asleep, what do you do? Go off on other adventures?" She looked a little disappointed at the thought.

"Funny you should mention it. This time I was actually gardening."

"Gardening?" Clara repeated, a smirk settling onto her face.

"What?" the Doctor said defensively, "Gardening is cool."

She laughed, "I knew the TARDIS was bigger on the inside, I just didn't think it was the kind of ship to have a garden."

"Actually, it's got five, but that's not where I was," the Doctor was beaming with pride now, "would you like to see what I've been working on?"

"Is a cyberman silver? Let's go."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and indicated to a knob directly in front of Clara. She pulled with with a wicked grin and felt solid ground materialize beneath the ship, accompanied by the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing. Clara glanced up at the Doctor, her face aglow with excitement and curiosity, but she knew better than to ask where they were. She'd get more that enough information eventually, but not before she stepped out and took a look around.

The term "garden" may have been a little misleading. What greeted Clara, and flooded her senses, was a jungle, but one unlike any jungle she had ever seen, for everything, the trees, shrubs, and vines, were all covered in the most magnificent flowers. "You couldn't have planted this," she said in wonder. "This is impossible."

"Well so are you, my Impossible Girl, but you don't see me complaining." She flash him a not-amused-look, but failed to prevent a smile from tugging at the corners of her lips. "And I _did_ plant all of this. I just maybe gave it a few hundred years to mature before returning, that's all."

"It's beautiful," she said, running her hands gently over a vibrantly orange blossom. "Where are we?"

"The eighth planet in the Asuksa system. Used to be home to the Tsuri people, a warlike people, who'd managed to kill themselves all off a couple of decades before I arrived last _night_. You see the Tsuri people were the descendants of trees, not unlike the Forest of Cheem, and their deaths, and the subsequent decomposition, did create beautifully rich soil."

Clara had begun to move through their densely packed surroundings, but was still keen to learn all she could and called back to the Doctor over the trees, "Does anyone live here now?"

"Nope. It's been 254 years since the Tsuri went extinct (237 since I first planted my garden) and the whole system is uninhabited and rather remote. The most you'll find out here is a-" the Doctor stopped abruptly. He couldn't see Clara, but that wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him was that he could hear her heart beating rapidly in her chest. He ran in the direction she had headed, but only got two steps around a particularly larg tree when he saw them. Two figures, both tall and shabby looking. Both of them armed. The slightly shorter one held Clara in his arms, one hand locked over her mouth, the other holding a gun firmly to her head. The taller figure looked straight at the Doctor and his disrupter rifle followed his gaze. Sarmearian pirates, the only ones desperate enough to use this distant rock as a refuge. How could he be so thick to have forgotten that?

"Well lookie, here's the other one," the man holding Clara drawled. "You'd do well to put your hands up nice and slow, wouldn't want anything to happen to this little thing."

"She's pretty," the taller one said to his partner, while never taking his eyes off of the Doctor.

"If you hurt her-"

"Hurt her? Now why would we do that? We heard you talking before. She's not just pretty, she's '_impossible_' and _impossible_ always fetches a high price." Clara tried to struggle, but the man's grip was strong. "Well what are you waiting for?" he barked at his partner, "Scan her already."

The taller man did as he was told, all while keeping the rifle closely aimed on the Doctor.

"Just says she's human."

The shorter man was eying her skeptically, "Bit far from home, but nothing really impossible about that."

"You see," the Doctor said, trying to affect a light tone, "not worth very much at all. The impossible part is really just a pet name of sorts. Now if you'd just kindly lower your weapons, we'll be on our way."

The shorter one was eying the Doctor now and a cruel smile seemed to spread across his features, "She might not be special, but a pretty human can still make us a fair bit of coin."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed on the man, and his brain quickly flipped through all the possible escapes. The growing tension between them was broken by the second man, "Brother, brother," he seemed to be holding the scanner up in disbelief, "he's a Time Lord, an actual, living Time Lord. Can you imagine what he's worth?" In his excitement and greed he had also raised his weapon just off the mark.

The Doctor lunged forward in a flash. His hand raised to tear Clara from her captor if necessary. Which, as it turns out, it wasn't. For as soon as it was the Doctor who's life was on the line, Clara acted as she always did, she immediately went into action to save him. She bit her captor's hand and ran towards the Doctor, grabbing his outstretched arm and dragging him off into the jungle. They ran a fast, meandering path back to the TARDIS, weaving in and out of the trees to avoid the disrupter blasts the brothers aimed after them. "Leave it to pirates to ruin a perfectly good day. Did I ever tell you about the time my friends and I were trapped in a pirate ship?" the Doctor asked, as a branch a few inches above his head sustained a direct hit.

"I know you love to do both, but less talking, more running," Clara ordered. They were still hand in hand and were mere feet from the door, when Clara felt the Doctor crumble to the ground. She supported him over her shoulder as best as she could and quickly maneuvered him into the TARDIS. It took a great amount of effort to carefully lay him down beside the central console, and although everything in her was screaming to help him, she knew she had to get them out of danger first. She punched a quick sequence into the controls, the first sequence she had ever learned, and in a moment they had returned to the safety of the time vortex.

With that done Clara fell to her knees and began to examine the Doctor. As she fear, he had sustained a direct hit in the side. The heat of the blast had cauterized the wound, but there was no way for her to tell how deep it went or what the internal damage was. She placed her head on his chest, but pulled away in horror by the sounds that awaited her there. Only his right heart was beating, and the rhythm was as slow and laboured as his breathing. She held his face in her hands, "Doctor, stay with me."

"No where else I'd rather be," he managed to get out, but his eyes remained closed and all of the colour had drained from his face. Clara grabbed hold of his hand, but released it almost immediately because of the flash of heat that had erupted there. She stared down at his hands to confirm what she already suspected: they had begun to glow.

"No. Please, Doctor, don't do this."

"Time for a change. Everything changes," he spluttered, "you know this part better than most."

"But I don't want you to change," she said frantically. "I've seen all of your faces, every one, but _you_ are my Doctor. If you regenerate now you'll be someone else, and this face... it'll be lost to me. I will never be able to see you again."

"I said that to someone once," his voice was far away now, she had to crouch down to hear it, "Can't change what's gonna happen... Geronimo." The golden light was spreading through his body and soon exploded with enough force to launch Clara across the room. She picked herself up as quickly as she could, and although her head was spinning, she worked her way over to where the Doctor was. Nothing could have prepared Clara for what she saw before her. Lying on the TARDIS floor, exactly where she had left the Doctor, was an infant with vibrantly ginger hair.


	2. Vulnerable

**Chapter 2 - Vulnerable**

Clara stared down at the baby, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. Her processing time was cut short as the infant began to wail. On instinct she scoped the child up and cradled him to herself. "There now. What's the big fuss? Everything's going to be alright." She had always been good with children and the infant calmed down almost immediately. He rested his head against her shoulder and held on loosely to her hair. "That is you, isn't it Doctor?" she asked, although she didn't expect an answer. "This is probably the quietest you've ever been in your life. I don't suppose Time Lord infants can talk?" she waited a moment, but the silence wasn't even filled with babbling. "It is still you though, isn't it? I mean a regeneration changes you, but you're still the Doctor. You still have that same mind. So... are you just smaller?" Clara could feel the infants small breaths against her neck. What was she to do now? The Doctor had taught her how to return to her own time, but what was she to do when she got there? Care for the Doctor? Raise him? Who knew how long it took Time Lords to grow up.

Clara pulled the Doctor off her shoulder and held him at arms length. Staring into his tiny face she tried to look for any piece of information, any familiar expression. "Oh Doctor, what are we going to do?" this time she couldn't quite keep the fear from her voice. "I didn't know this could happen. Doctor, I don't know what to do. I need help." The baby reached out its left arm and seemed to point at the console. _Was that on purpose? _ Clara wondered, _What was he trying to say?_ In that moment it occurred to Clara that she wasn't as alone as she thought. The TARDIS and her weren't always on the best terms, but she was a living thing, she cared about the Doctor, and she was the best-perhaps only-ally Clara had at the moment. "Activate the voice interphase".

"TARDIS voice visual interface activated." Clara nearly drop the baby in surprise. It was his voice. She turned around quickly and saw the Doctor-her Doctor-standing before her. "Doctor?"

"I am not the Doctor. I am the voice interface," it said in a flat tone.

Clara didn't think she could stand talking to him if it wasn't... well, really actually him. She was about to ask the TARDIS to change, but she didn't have the heart. She couldn't help it; she wanted to see him for just a little longer. Even if it was a lie.

"Of all the people, why did you have to be him?"

"I chose someone you esteem."

"What are you, a mind reader?" Clara meant it as a joke, but as soon as she said it she knew it must be in some part true. And if it was true, it might just come in handy. "Because I could really use a mind reader."

"I can detect and analyze low level telepathic fields."

"What's the Doctor thinking about right now?" she asked, expectantly.

"I cannot determine that in this manner."

"Of course not," Clara stared back down at the Doctor, who this time looked like he was pointing at the floor. "Not in that 'manner', but another one, right?" Baby in hand, Clara raced down the steps until she was directly under the console. "I'm going to need you down here too, TARDIS." At her word, the voice visual interface materialized beside her. After careful consideration Clara found the telepathic circuit amongst other cables that looked almost the same, and held it out in front of her. "Now Doctor, I'm linking you into the telepathic circuit, it... well, it won't hurt a bit." she said, although they both knew it was a lie. The moment Clara inserted the telepathic circuit into the Doctor he let out a wail. She tried to console him but he was sobbing uncontrollably. "Well?" she called out to the TARDIS, "Anything?"

The projection's all too familiar face was lined in concentration. "There's too much to put into words. A Time Lord's mind is just too great."

Clara turned back to the Doctor, "Shhh, Doctor I know it hurts and it's a lot for a little guy like you, but I need you to concentrate." It seemed to work. He was growing quiet, although tears continued to stream down his face. "You're just too clever for all of this, but I need you to dumb it down for us lesser beings. I need you to focus on a single idea. A single word. Can you do that?"

"Pond..." the voice interface said quietly.

"That was him?" Clara asked. The voice interface merely nodded. "Okay, don't really know what that means, but it's a start." She knew they wouldn't have much time like this, but her head was a sea of questions, she didn't even know where to begin. "Doctor, you're a baby?" she said without thinking.

"Vulnerable." Clara didn't have to be told that this was the words of the Doctor.

"You mean as you are now, you're vulnerable like this?"

"Not safe."

"Okay, how do we keep you safe?"

"Martha."

"Martha?" Clara's head ran through every possibility she could think of. She knew more about his life than anyone, except maybe the TARDIS (and possibly River Song), but she had only seen it in glimpses. Which Martha might he mean?

"Martha? Martha Jones, you're old companion?"

"She knows."

"Knows? How to keep you safe? Doctor, how does she know?"

"Experience... We should stop. He is in too much pain."

Clara knew at once that the TARDIS was now speaking for itself. She also knew it was right, for the Doctor's tiny body had begun to shake involuntarily. She detached the telepathic cable and held him tightly in her arms until he had calmed down. "We need Martha Jones," Clara said to the TARDIS. "Can you get us to her?"

"Perhaps," the projection replied, but Clara could sense hesitation in its voice.

For all of their differences, Clara couldn't fault the TARDIS for its uncertainty. It wasn't just a matter of where Martha was, it was where she was at that moment in time, and which moment was the best one to find her in. It was like throwing a dart at a planet from space and hoping to hit a particular leaf. What they needed was a pilot. A real one. Clara cursed herself, but whether that was for not learning to fly the ship or for being human she wasn't quite sure. Not that the human part really mattered. There was only one person who could fly the TARDIS and he couldn't help her anymore... except, that wasn't quite true. "We need River Song." The Doctor had always bragged about how good River was with the TARDIS and Clara had seen first hand River's abilities, even when she was incorporeal. But where were they to find River? She said the Doctor had saved her in a database in the biggest library in the universe. Clara guessed that throughout all of time there would have been (and will be) several places that would earn that name. But there was something about River's words that pulled on the edges of Clara's memory. Particularly the part about being 'saved'. "The Library..." she muttered to herself as she thought back, or was it forward, to a different her, maybe Oswin or someone else around that time. She'd been saved in the Library (well saved and then rescued) by two very strange people, and when she went over to say thank you she couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't disturb them. Not when he looked so very sad. "I didn't know she knew the tenth version of him." Clara said to no one in particular. "TARDIS, can you take us to the Library? In the fifty first century, that same day, just after the Doctor left. After River Song... well, after she was... uploaded. Can you take us there?"

"Yes," and with that they were off.


	3. The Plan

**A/N** _Thanks for the reviews and the follows. I hope you enjoy the return of some old friends (I know Moffat doesn't like trips down memory lane, but sometimes I wish we could just check in on some of the old companions)._

**Chapter 3 - The Plan**

The halls of the Library were so silent Clara was concerned that they had arrived at the wrong time and were sure to be food for the vashta nerada. But then, in the distance she could make out the sounds of transports, and knew they were on time, that the TARDIS had landed just as the evacuation was complete. It felt strange to be in the Library's cavernous halls. Clara felt like she'd wandered back into the Doctor's time stream, and had to close her eyes for a second while the feeling passed. She had not set the Doctor down since his regeneration, and carrying him in her arms she walked up to a curtesy node. "I require access to River Song. She is saved in your database."

Clara let out a gasp when the statue turned around, revealing River's face, "Please state the nature of your request."

"I need her help. The Doctor needs protecting."

"Clara?" River's voice ran out through the silent library. Clara quickly turned to her right to find River standing there, looking exactly as she has on Trenzalore. "What's happened?" Not quite sure how to put it into words, Clara merely held up the baby. River glanced down at him and then back up to Clara. "Take me to the TARDIS."

* * *

Clara did her best to tell River everything that had happened to them. She explained about the pirates, the Doctor's regeneration, and their halting conversation with help from the TARDIS. "And you're sure he meant Martha Jones?"

"Pretty sure," Clara replied, suddenly feeling less than certain. "So are we still mentally linked? Is that how I can see you?"

"Mhm," River muttered, her attention fixed on the console.

"Guess that makes sense. I can see wanting a way to check in on the Doctor from time to time." River made no reply, simply moved around the room, checking screens and preparing. Clara sat on the ground playing with the Doctor. He looked almost pleased and occasionally let out a sound quite like a giggle. She smiled back at him and bouncing him around on her knee. His eyes weren't on her's though, he was glancing around the room. It was almost as if... "It's like he's watching you. His eyes follow you around the room. But that's impossible, isn't it?"

"The Doctor can always see me," River said in an offhanded way, still focusing her attention on the panel in front of her.

Clara looked shocked, "Really? Wow. Would you like me to bring him over then? I mean I know you can't hold him, but I could hold him up close and-"

"We should be ready now," River said, cutting her off, clearly intending to end that particular conversation.

* * *

Although it had been nearly five years since Martha or Mickey had seen the Doctor, the moment they heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing in their backyard, they were up out of their seats and racing for the door without so much as a look passing between them. They were halfway through their garden when Clara emerged from the TARDIS. "Whoa, Doctor. Liking the new look. You're quite fit," Mickey said, sounding impressed.

Martha simply rolled her eyes, "She's not the Doctor."

"Why? Because the Doctor always has to be some white, British bloke?"

"No," Martha said, pointing down at the baby, "because _that_'s the Doctor."

Clara just smiled, "He always said you were brilliant."

* * *

Five minutes later they were in the TARDIS and Clara had brought everyone up to speed. "And he thought I could help?" Martha asked in disbelief, "Why?"

"All he said was "experience". Had anything like this ever happened when you travelled together?"

"Nothing. I would definitely have remembered diapers."

"She's not really a kid person," Mickey added.

"Especially after he had me working in a boys school."

"This is useless. We're not getting anywhere." River let out a frustrated sigh.

"We've only just started. We'll figure it out." Clara turned back to Martha and Mickey to question them further, but stopped when she saw the confused, and a little concerned, look on their faces. "I was just talking to River... who you can't see. Right..." Martha and Mickey exchange another worried look. "I'm mentally linked to the Doctor's dead wife. It's a long story."

Their confusion morphed into utter astonishment.

"He got married?"

"He married a dead woman?" They said almost in union.

"Yes. Well no, she was alive when they were married. I think anyway. It happened outside of time. I told you this was a long story. The point is, her name is River Song and she's here to help, and-"

"And I want to protect him just as much as any of you." All three of them turned to face River in disbelief.

Taking in the look on their faces Clara asked, "So I gather you can see her now, too?"

Mickey nodded, his month still hanging open with shock.

"I patched myself into the TARDIS' voice visual interface. Thought it would be a little easier this way. Now, if I'm not mistaken, we were trying to figure out why the Doctor sent us here."

"Right," Martha eyed River a little suspiciously, but whether this was because she had just materialized out of thin air or because she was the Doctor's wife, Clara wasn't sure. "Repeat what he said to you. His exact words."

"He said he was 'vulnerable' that it wasn't safe."

"Well that's clear enough, isn't it?" River said, clearly frustrated with her husband. "I mean the last Time Lord in the universe is a pretty tempting commodity. The only reason more people don't go after him is that not many are that stupid. But like this, a child, unable to even care for himself, much less protect himself. How can he have that great a mind and still be a complete idiot some times. It's just lunacy."

The others stared at her, uncertain of how to respond. Finally, as is usually the case, Mickey broke the silence, "Okay, so 'vulnerable' and 'not safe'. What else did he say?"

"He says 'Martha knows', like you'd know what to do because you had 'experience'. Does any of that ring a bell?"

"Well there were plenty of times that they weren't safe," Mickey chimed in, "but that's just traveling with the Doctor, ain't it?" Both Clara and River nodded unconsciously in agreement.

"What about 'vulnerable'?" River asked, "The Doctor's a lot of things, but "vulnerable" is rarely one of them. Was there a time that he was targeted? That someone or something was after him?"

"Well there was..." Martha began, and then suddenly went silent. Her eyes went wide as she pieced it all together, "He can't mean..."

"What?" River asked, impatiently.

"There was a time he was vulnerable. The Family of Blood. They had stolen a Vortex Manipulator and were tracking him through time and space. We had to hide. But they could track Time Lords, they could like smell them, so he... he..."

"He became human," River finished, recalling the story.

"He can do that?" Clara asked in amazement. She thought she knew him so well, and yet there was always so much more to him.

"He used this device. The chameleon arch. I think it could have made him into anything, but this time, it made him human."

"But I mean, he already looks human." Mickey said, not fully gasping the relevance.

"This was more than looks. It changed every cell in his body. He was completely human, a human mind, human heart..."

"As in, one?" Clara asked.

"One." _A big, fragile one_, she nearly added, but what difference would that make now?

"Did he know he was the Doctor?" Clara's question pulled Martha out of the past.

"No. His mind, all of his memories, they were stored in a fob watch. He thought he was John Smith, professor at a boys school. The TARDIS had created him some kind of past. He did dream about it, though. About being the Doctor. He thought it was this fantastical story he had invented."

"Well this is it then." River said, rejoining the conversation at last. "This must be the Doctor's plan. He can grow up as a human, relatively safely, and become a Time Lord again when he's of age."

"Right, except..."

"Except what?" Clara asked, looking straight into Martha's eyes.

"Except the chameleon arch... it's painful." Images of the Doctor writhing in agony filled Martha's head. She closed her eyes to shut them out, "It's horrible really. I can't imagine putting a child through that."

"I don't see as how we have any other choice," River said, matter-of-factly.

The tension in the room was suffocating, broken once again by Mickey, "Well, he's just a baby. He can't have that many cells in his body. Probably won't take as long."

Clara couldn't help it, she smiled. Yes, the implications of their plan were horrible, but it felt good to have a plan. "Okay, so we make him human and he grows up. Eighteen makes sense, yeah? By then he should be big enough to travel the stars and look after himself. I can be his caregiver in the mean time. I'm already a nanny and probably the best suited to the job."

"No you can't," River said in her commanding way. "Someone else can look after the Doctor, you have to look after something much more important."

"More important?"

"You have to care for his soul. His mind, all of his memories. That's what others will really be after. You're the only one that can truly keep that safe."

Clara knew she was right, but... "But who will care for him?"

Both Clara and River turned to Martha and Mickey. They glance at each other and back at the women, fear clearly etched in their faces. "We're not really great with kids," Mickey said, as if their previous discussion hadn't made that clear.

"Besides, freelance alien hunters? Not exactly the best environment to keep him away from danger."

"She's right," River said, her mind already racing to the next possibility.

"What about Rose?" Mickey asked. Happy enough to continue the discussion now that the burden wouldn't fall to him. "I mean she's always been good with kids. A bit strict, but I bet he'd need that. Where is she anyway? Couldn't imagine she'd ever leave his side again," a dark look passed over his eyes. As if for the first time, he really understood the immensity of time. How long had it been for the Doctor since he last saw him? For all he knew Rose had died of old age centuries before.

As if reading his mind River said, "She's fine. She's with the metacrisis in the alternate universe. But the walls between dimensions are too thick, we could never reach her."

"What about Donna Noble?" Martha asked, her face lit up, as if she'd found the solution to all of their problems.

"Donna would be one hard-ass mum," Mickey said with an approving smile.

The look on River's face broke their heart. "Donna's not an option."

"Then Vastra and Jenny." Martha and Mickey gave Clara a confused look, but she was directing her suggestion at River. "They love the Doctor. They'd be wonderful parents, and Strax would even make a lovable, crazy uncle."

River considered the idea for a minute. The four of them really would make quite the family, but it was no use. "It's the same as Martha, I'm afraid. His world would still be filled with aliens and there would be no way to keep him hidden."

"They could protect him," Clara protested, "I mean Strax is a Sontaran, he could keep him safe."

"You want to leave him in the care of a Sontaran?"

"It's a long story." Clara answers, not taking her eyes off River.

"We're not talking about a single battle. They must protect him for eighteen years. Eighteen years of constant alien exposure. He would be discovered."

"But isn't that an issue we'll run into with anyone we know. It's hard for those of us who have travelled with the Doctor to ever really leave this life behind."

All four of them went quiet. Lost to their thoughts. Trying desperately to find that one in a million. One in a million billion. The one person who could care for someone so dear to them.

"There must be others," Mickey said at last, "I mean the Doctor never travels alone. He's always got some pretty girl with him. What about all the ones before Rose? Or after... did you travel with him right after Donna?" he asked Clara. "Or were their people in between?"

"Amy and Rory?" River said, as if pulled out of a dream. She smiled to herself for a moment and then shock her head. She was stone-faced when she answered. "Not possible. The Ponds... they're not an option either."

"Ponds?" Clara echoed. Her mind racing through the days events. "Ponds!" She was smiling now, excitement and relief bubbling up in her. "That's it. That's where he wants to go."

"I told you it's impossible."

"Well I'm the Impossible Girl," she said, unfazed by River's objections. "The first thing he said; I didn't understand it at the time, but he said 'Pond'. I think that's his vote. I think that's what he intended all along." River was shaking her head, ready to explain to Clara just how wrong she was. "He must have been thinking about this right from the start. I mean, just look at him."

And River did. For the first time she gave this small Doctor a good, long look. She noticed his vibrantly red hair, his bluey green eyes, and something in his face, an open, friendly look that cut right to her heart. "He really does look just like them." She reached out for the Doctor, but lowered her hands just as quickly. "Even if that's what he wants, there's still no way to do it. We created a paradox. He can't even get to New York, much less New York in the 1930s."

"What would happen if he tried?"

"He'd be stopped. Or the planet would implode. He wasn't racing to find out which it was."

"But I've traveled with him to Earth within their lifetime. The paradox doesn't extend around the whole world."

"But New York-"

"What if we didn't land in the city? What if we materialized somewhere else and traveled to New York from there? Took the slow path."

Clara could tell River was thinking this through carefully. Trying to figure out if it was even possible. "I'm sorry. It would still be him. He was at the centre of the paradox. He is the thing that cannot enter-"

"But it won't be him," Martha interrupted. "He'd be human by that point. John Smith."

"John Pond," Clara said, the smile still glue to her face.

"Williams..." River said it before she could catch herself. "I believe his name would be John Williams."

"So we've got a plan?" Mickey asked, glancing around the console room at the current and former companions.

"I think so." Martha said with a small smile.

Clara looked into River's eyes. The small nod was all the encouragement she needed. "Okay then. Geronimo."


	4. Farewells

**A/N** _Thanks again for the reviews and the follows. It's wonderful to get feedback on a story. This one's a little bit of a downer, but then saying goodbye always is.  
_

**Chapter 4 - Farewells**

It didn't take Martha long to explain to the group everything she knew and had observed about the Chameleon Arch and River assured her, rather dismissively, that she and the TARDIS would be able to figure the rest of it out. The Smiths had been there less than half an hour, but already felt like old friends as Clara showed them to the door.

"So he really told you about us?" Mickey asked in disbelief, "I mean, he never used to talk about the past, did he?"

"He used to be like that," Clara agreed, "all avoidie."

"So what changed?"

Changed? Clara thought. What had changed? When she first traveled with the Doctor she didn't know anything really. Not about him. Not for a long time. She didn't know about River, or the other people who had traveled with him, she didn't even know there had been other Doctors. But after Trenzalore everything was different. She already knew the stories, or at least pieces of them. So when she made a comment or asked a question, he couldn't help but fill in the details. Every good day and every bad. She was Clara Oswald, the keeper of all the Doctor's stories. Which was soon to be a very literal description. But how was she suppose to put all that into words?

Martha saw the tongue-tide look on Clara face and came to her rescue, "Let me guess, it's a long story?"

"Yes," Clara's relief was palpable.

They were almost out the door when Martha turned back, "I'm really glad you came today. The last time we saw the Doctor... It was like he was there to say goodbye. And you know him, he hates goodbyes. So we just thought..." she couldn't finish the sentence.

"We were worried we'd never see him again."

Clara nodded. She could understand that feeling.

"Can you do us a favour?" Martha asked, "When it's all finished, when you have him back and he's the Doctor again, can you pop by. Just so we know he's okay?"

"I'll do my best."

Martha looked relieved, "It really was very nice to meet you," and she enveloped Clara in a hug before Clara had a chance to react.

"It was great to meet you too," Clara went to shake Mickey's hand, but was surprised to find him hugging her as well.

"He only travels with the best," Mickey said, and with that they were off.

River had remain at the console as the Smiths were leaving, checking and rechecking that she had everything in place. "The TARDIS and I have everything sorted with the Chameleon Arch. Are you ready?"

"No," Clara said truthfully, "but let's get it over with."

The best thing Clara could say about the Chameleon Arch was that mercifully Mickey's joke turned out to be correct, the transformation was quite short. But the sounds of pain and the way the Doctor's small body convulsed still made it some of the worst minutes of Clara's life. It took her a long time to calm the child down afterwards. When he was finally asleep-still in her arms mind you-she walked up to the console to consult with River. "How are we looking?"

"The closest we can get you is Buffalo. We'll land near the bus terminal and you can take a bus down to New York City."

"Me? Aren't you coming?"

"No," River said, her eyes back on the console.

"But... the Doctor, and... don't you want to see your parents?" Clara didn't mean to say it. She had done her best not even to allude to it up until this point. River had stopped what she was doing, but did not look up at Clara. "I'm sorry. I know they won't be able to see you, but I could-"

"There's a time to live and a time to sleep," River continued to stare at the console as she spoke, "I've said my goodbyes."

At that moment the Doctor-or was it John, now?-woke up with a start, and Clara soothed him as River and the TARDIS finished the final preparations. Clara watched River work, and it broke her heart a little to realize that John didn't seem to notice River at all and was only looking at Clara. "You're really gone, aren't you?" she whispered to him as he played with her necklace and tried his best to put it in his mouth. Clara glanced back at River. An _echo_ the Doctor had called her. A fragment of a woman long dead. Her stories with the Doctor were over. And that's all they were in the end, stories. Moments. Fragments in time. And far too few, Clara would wager. All that empty time. Or at least, time without him. "River? Did ever have other love affairs?" She knew she didn't have the right to ask, she wasn't even quite sure why she was asking, but in that moment she wanted to know that there was life beyond and (for her potentially) after the Doctor.

"Yes and no," River said, although there was a ghost of a grin on her face, "I would just call them affairs." The grin was gone, suddenly replaced by a more serious look, "He was always the opposite though."

"Opposite?"

For the first time in a long while, River turned around and looked Clara right in the eye, "If you travel with the Doctor there's something you must know..." She paused, trying to find the right words, "The first rule with the Doctor-"

"Oh, I know this one. 'The Doctor lies'."

River smiled again. Thinking back to that day, so very long ago. The first day she met him and all of his silly rules. "Yes, that's his rule. Although it wouldn't be mine. He always gets his way though, so who am I to argue? Yes, rule one: the Doctor lies. But rule two: the Doctor loves. Everyone and everything. That's just who he is, who he's always been," she was looking warmly at Clara now, "So I don't want you to feel bad, if something happens between you."

Clara looked a little taken aback, "River..."

"I know my husband and you are just his type."

Clara didn't know how to respond. She lowered her gaze and found herself staring at ginger hair. Once again she was hit by the realization that her Doctor really was gone, "Things change."

"Not everything," River looked down at the baby and then back up at Clara. "I've never known him as a ginger. He's not my Doctor anymore. He might still be yours." River's statement was punctuated by the TARDIS landing on solid ground. Silently of course, she never leaves the breaks on.

"What will happen to you now?" Clara asked.

"Tired of being a book on the shelf. I think it's time to go. Goodbye Clara Oswald. It really has been a pleasure," and with that she was gone. For good this time, Clara thought. She could feel it, at the back of her mind, like a single nerve tensing and relaxing. She knew right away River had severed the mental link.


	5. The Ponds in Central Park

**A/N** _Sorry for the long delay. Work started up this week and it's been crazy. Thanks for reading. After this there's just one more chapter and an epilogue. Almost there. Reviews are always welcome. It's nice to get some feedback._

**Chapter 5 - The Ponds in Central Park**

Between being worried about alien bounty hunters and the paradox, Clara never considered that it would be her status as an unmarried woman with a child that would nearly derail their whole plan. The man behind the counter stared at her pointedly and made no move to issue her a ticket. "New York City?" he seemed to say it with a hint of disgust, "Now why would you want to go there? Especially with your _son_?" There was no denying his contempt as he stared between Clara and the child.

"Oh, he's not my son. Goodness me, just look at him. And I'm not even married." The hard expression on the man's face didn't change. "I'm just the caregiver. I've been looking after him while his parents get themselves settled in New York. That's where I'm taking him now. To meet them. It's all right here," she said as she held up the psychic paper. Taking it was River's idea. She had also directed Clara to a compartment containing currencies organized by time period. River's idea, apparently. "The Doctor never thinks about money, thinks he can get through life with charm and a wink (and occasionally his sonic screwdriver). I set this up for all the times that doesn't work".

The bus terminal employee stared at the psychic paper. He didn't looked pleased, but at least he seemed to be considering whether or not to issue her a ticket. "It's still not a very good idea Miss. A young lady like yourself, going all that way without a chaperon."

"Please sir, isn't there something you could do? The family will be awfully worried if I don't arrive on time," she tried to look as innocent as possible and did her best to make her large eyes even larger as she stared up at him.

"Very well," he finally relented, "Sit up with the driver. I'll let him know your predicament and he can keep an eye on you. Keep you out of harm's way."

"Thank you," Clara tried to sound as benevolent as possible, despite her growing dislike of the man.

She did as she was told and positioned herself right behind the driver. A middle age woman sat down beside her, and Clara suspected that that too was intended to keep her out of trouble. The woman stared down pleasantly at John, and said in that sing-song voice people use when talking to or about babies, "Your son has the reddest hair I've ever seen. I can only imagine what his father looks like." Much to Clara's relief there was no judgement or insinuation in the woman's tone.

"He actually gets the red hair from his mother. I'm just the nanny. I'm bring him down to his parents in New York."

"Well isn't that nice of you," the older woman was all smiles and was still cooing at the baby, but when she reached out for John he began to cry. Clara quickly folded him into her arms and he calmed down always immediately.

"Sorry about that. He's normally so good with people."

"Not to worry, dear. A long travel makes the best of us grumpy."

They chatted pleasantly for most of the long trip. After some time the older woman said, "So tell me about this boy of yours." Clara was confused and looked down at John. "No, not him. Your sweetheart."

"I don't have-"

"Now, now, there's no fooling me. I know young love when I see it written all over someone's face. Is he a boy from back home or is he in the city?"

Clara laugh, "He'll be in the city by the time I get there, but" she added quickly, "he's not my sweetheart."

"But he was once?"

"Well," Clara began, not sure how exactly to explain her relationship with the Doctor.

"Let me guess, he was whisked away by circumstances? Had to leave for New York. And now you feel so far removed it seems hopeless?" there was a very knowing, optimistic look on her face.

"Something like that," Clara said, mainly out of simplicity.

"Not to worry. If he cared about you, he will again. You just wait and see."

"Things change," Clara said, for the second time that day.

"Not everything. Not love. Not always. Trust me, dear."

* * *

Clara's seat mate had offered to wait with her in the bus terminal until she was picked up, but Clara managed to convince her that the driver had already volunteered. Clara would have liked the company, but felt like she couldn't risk it. She waited in the terminal for two hours, long after everyone from her bus had left, and finally took to the streets confident that no one would be able to guess at her original origin. She had no idea where the Ponds lived, but River had provided her with the address of the publishing company that Amy worked out in that period. Amelia Williams. Clara's very favourite author as a kid. Who knew they had so much in common? Clara managed to sneak into the office and walked the halls until she found a door that read "A. Williams". Clara could make out a woman with long red hair through the etched glass. How she long to just open the door and get it over with. But she knew this wasn't the place. As she walked back down the hall she dropped a letter on the mail cart and continued walking until she was out of the building. She took a seat on a park bench across the street and waited. Within a few minutes Amy came tearing out of the building, looking frantically in all directions, the TARDIS blue envelop still clutched in her hands. Even though this part of the plan had been River's, Clara felt a tinge of guilt at the deception. Of course Amy would think it was from the Doctor. She would know it couldn't be, but she would still hope. And if the envelop wasn't enough, the inclusion of her round reading glasses, that he had so treasured, would have seemed to confirm the impossible. The letter itself was simple, 'The Rock, 7pm.' Clara knew she need not say more than this.

Now confident that the letter had been delivered Clara made her way to Central Park. She was sure she had not been followed, but just in case, she doubled back constantly throughout her journey, obscuring her route. At the park at last she bought a pretzel and sat on the rock feeding small piece of it to John and making faces at him. She look around for the Ponds, although she knew it was not yet seven. When she looked back at John he was smiling up at her affectionately. He really was a pleasant child. "How about story. Would you like that?" He sucked on his fingers, but he eyes were still fixed on her, "There is a man called the Doctor and one day, I met him. And of course it was the best day ever. It's just the best day of my life. Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny and mad. And best of all he really needs me. The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day. And once we started running I started to forget, slowly, that it was dangerous. That he wouldn't always be there..." Clara heard footsteps approaching. She looked up just as they stopped. Amy and Rory. A little older, but otherwise exactly as she remembered them.

"She's not the Doctor," Amy's statement was directed at Rory, but was clearly also meant for Clara by the way Amy was glaring at her.

"No, I'm not." she said, staring up at the couple.

"Where's the Doctor?" Amy asked, her tone darkened with disappointment, but still edged with hope. Clara glanced down at the child and then looked back into Amy's eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Wish I were. But I can explain everything. I promise."

"Who are you?" Rory asked, joining the conversation at last. "Have we met before? You sound so familiar."

"We have, well, sort of. We met at the Dalek Asylum. I think I called you Nina."

Rory's whole face changed, "Soufflé Girl?" and if it was possible, he began to look even more confused, "But were a dalek. And you died? You were a dead dalek. How are you a person now?"

"Different life. Different me. Well, sort of. It's a long story, but I'll do my best to explain it. All of it. If you'll let me."

The Ponds looked at each other, and after coming to a silent agreement, settled themselves on the rock opposite Clara. For her part, she did her best to explain about the Doctor's timeline, the Asuksa system, the Doctor's regeneration, and the Chameleon Arch. Before she could get into the details about River, the Smiths, and their plan Amy cut her off. "So you sent the letter?"

"I'm sorry. I had to be sure you'd come."

"What do you need us for?" Amy was mad, that much was clear, and Clara could hardly blame her. There's nothing worse than disappointed hopes. Especially when it was something that had been longed for, even though it was impossible.

"I need someone to look after him."

"Why us?" this was a challenge. Maybe even a test, but with it a fierce confrontation at the heart of it.

Clara knew she wouldn't get a second chance, she had to answer this right. But how to explain the long list of failed applicants, to explain just how vulnerable the Doctor was now and how much he needed protection? All that planning; all their logic and reason and careful consideration seemed worthless in the face of two people that loved him so much they truly believed he found away around the universe ending paradox to see them. "Because you're his best friends," she said at last. Her words completely genuine. She knew it was true. Rory looked at his wife imploringly and even Amy's resolve was melting. "I mean, just look at him. I think this is exactly where he wanted to be." Like her daughter before her, Amy had not dared look at the infant in all the time they sat there. Now her eyes soaked him in and a made a careful catalogue of his features: her hair and colouring, Rory's eyes, and was that her mother's mouth? Without meaning to, she reached out for him, and the little boy reached back. Clara closed the distance between them and gently placed the baby in Amy's arms. He cooed with delight and settled softly against her shoulder.

Amy was glowing as she held him tightly in her arms. It took her a moment to remember Clara was there at all. "What happens now?"

"Now he grows up. Safe. With you."

"But you'll be back for him?" Amy's tone was unreadable.

"Yes, eighteen years from today. He should be old enough by then to take care of himself."

"Not if he's anything like his father," Amy laughed.

"Hey!" Rory complained, and then they both looked a little startled at how easily they had accepted these new roles. "Will he remember? Being the Doctor that is, and well, us?"

"No," Clara said and then, thinking back to what Martha had told her, she added, "But he will dream about it."

"What should we do?"

Clara had been thinking about that all day and it wasn't until that moment that she finally had the answer, "Tell him stories. Tell him all about the Doctor and his crazy adventures. Make him a fairy tale. An-"

"Imaginary friend?" Amy added with the smallest traces of a smile.

"Exactly."


	6. Her Sweetheart the Doctor

**A/N**_ Decided to break the last chapter up. Almost there._

**Chapter 6 - Her Sweetheart the Doctor**

Clara couldn't deny she felt a pang of sadness watching the Ponds walk away with John. There was happiness mixed in there too of course. Hard as it was to believe, it all seemed to be working out. The moment Amy picked John up and brought him over to Rory Clara already knew they were a family. So why was she sad? Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time the slower path had appeal. She would be back here in a day and will have missed it all; his whole life.

Her trip back to the Buffalo was long and uneventful. She spoke to nobody and spent her time staring out the window and longing to just get it over with. When she entered the TARDIS she expected to immediately flip the switch River had set up for her, but was surprised to find herself opening a small, hidden compartment, instead. They had decided to leave the fob watch on board, River wasn't sure what would happen if it was taken into New York and besides the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through that door, and, according to the Doctor, they've tried. Clara held the watch tightly in her hand. She was sure that the subtle vibration she felt wasn't just her imagination. It was her Doctor, never content to sit still. "We're almost there," she whispered to it, "I'm about to go back for you. You'll be happy. You're ginger now." She stared down at the watch, longing to open it for a moment. Craving just a second of him. But she didn't dare. Too much of a risk. "I wish you were coming with me." She meant the Doctor of course, but in a small way she also meant the watch. There was something comforting about having it around. It seemed to ground her, keep her brave. But she knew what she had to do. She slipped the fob watch back into its hiding place, "See you soon" and with it safely secured she flipped the switch and propelled herself 18 years into the future.

* * *

Clara never would have thought it would be nearly as hard to get a bus ticket as a single young woman as it had been as a perceived single mother, but once again she was standing in front the ticket booth across from a man (fortunately a different man) that wasn't sure if she should really be going. "I just don't know Miss. Isn't there anyone who could be your chaperon?"

Clara longed for the psychic paper, but since Amy and Rory would have to explain who John was and how they suddenly had a child, she'd thought it was best to leave the paper with them. Fortunately, Clara had the next best thing, experience. "Please sir. The only family I have in the world is in New York City and they will be so very worried if I don't make it down by tomorrow morning. Could I maybe sit up with the driver? That way he could look out for me." The man seemed to consider this option and finally relented.

Clara sat in exactly the same spot she'd been in yesterday. She stared out the window and longed for the bus to start moving; longed for an end to this day. Her silent stewing was interrupted by a shriek. She quickly turned around and came face to face with the older woman she had traveled with yesterday. The older woman who was now eighteen years older than that. "Good heavens! You look just like..." the woman didn't seem able to completely her thought, probably realizing how crazy it was. She had gone white as a sheet and had a look in her eyes akin to seeing a ghost. "I'm sorry, it's just that you look exactly like someone I rode this bus with a long time ago."

"That's possible," Clara said, her brain working fast, "My older sister used to come this way years ago, and everyone says I look just like her when she was my age." The woman was nodding, but still looked shaken. "Did she by any chance have a little boy with her with vibrantly ginger hair?"

At that the woman seemed to relax, "Yes, that's right she did," seeming a little more comfortable the woman stowed her bag and sat down next to Clara. "You really are the spitting image."

"We get that a lot."

"Is that where you're headed, love? To see her?"

"Yes."

"Whatever happened to that little boy she was caring for? James was it?"

"John," Clara corrected.

"John, of course. The mind isn't quite what it used to be. He was such a lovely baby."

"He's doing well. All grown up, just turned eighteen."

The woman looked a little surprised at that, "My how time passes."

They spoke here and there throughout the trip, but not nearly as much as they had the time before. The woman still seemed a little put out and Clara was growing impatient with the whole arrangement and just wanted to be back in the TARDIS.

"Whatever happened between your sister and that sweetheart of hers? Did they end up together?"

"Yes," Clara said, offhandedly.

"I knew they would. I'm very good at those kind of things. Well good for her. And a doctor too. What a catch!"

Clara prayed that the fear that instantly consumed her over the mention of that word was not showing on her face, "Doctor?" she asked as casually as she could.

"Her sweetheart, wasn't he a doctor?"

"No," Clara was worried it came out a bit too emphatically, "He's a teacher. The father of the boy she was looking after, he was the doctor."

"Oh," she said with easy, "must have got it mix up. Never get older, my dear. Everything goes."

They were quiet for a long while after that. Could the mention of 'doctor' have been a coincidence? Of course it could, but Clara couldn't shake the unease that went along with it. The bus was starting to make her feel claustrophobic She was relieved to see that they were pulling into a rest station. She could definitely do with some fresh air.

"Do they live in the city now? Your sister and the doctor?" Clara stared at the woman, what was she to say? "I'm sorry, teacher, not doctor."

"Just outside of it," Clara's voice sounded off, even to her. The bus came to a stop and the driver informed everyone of their ten minute break. "Excuse," she said as she slipped past her seat mate, "I just have to go to the loo."

As soon as she was inside the rest stop Clara walked straight through and out the back doors. There was almost no other development in the area, and the rest station was surrounded by a large field of tall grasses. Making sure that no one was looking, Clara ran for the field and crouched down below the top of the grass. She crawled until she could see the bus. None of the street lamps were facing the field, she couldn't even make out her hands in front of her, but the bus was illuminated and she could see into it easily. When the ten minutes were up the driver returned. The older woman appeared to be kicking up a fuss that she wasn't there. The drive looked around the rest station, but after 15 minutes or so finally gave up and continued on his way, much to the distress of the older woman. By this point Clara was freezing. Her hands and knees were muddy and all she wanted was to hail a cab or catch the next bus through, but she already knew she couldn't go back to the rest station.

She wandered down the side of the road hoping someone would stop. She had to laugh at herself, she'd faced down an Ice Warrior, the Cybermen, not to mention thousands of deaths, but the truth was, hitchhiking scared her. She needn't have worried though. She ended up getting picked up by a lovely old truck driver, who didn't care a lick whether or not she was a young woman traveling alone, and seemed perfectly content to swap sci fi novel recommendations. Clara had had to summarize some of her adventures with the Doctor in order to keep up with the conversation, but surprisingly that actually made her feel better. She was safe for the time being and had found herself a ride to the Big Apple. Now she just had to make it to John before that woman did.


	7. Fiction

**A/N** _Sorry for the long delay. Got caught up on another story (oh and that pesky thing called work). You finally meet John. Hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter 7 - Fiction**

_"It's the oldest story in the universe, this one or any other. Boy and girl fall in love, get separated by events. War, politics, accidents in time. She's thrown out of the hex, or he's thrown into it. Since then they've been yearning for each other across time and space, across dimensions. This isn't a ghost story, it's a love story!". Lost to his own stories, it took the Doctor moment to realized he had his arm around Clara's shoulders. How long had be been doing that for? He didn't even remember starting. The Doctor quickly removed it hoping she didn't notice. Clara, his impossible, wonderful Clara. He had spent so little time with her and yet she filled his head. 'The only mystery worth solving' he had said, and he had meant it. He couldn't seem to think of anything else these days. 'Very pretty' well yes, of course that was true. 'Very clever' most certainly. 'More scared than she lets on' probably right. The only part of the assessment the Doctor couldn't believe was that she was a "perfectly ordinary girl'. He glanced down at her, at her big, warm eyes, her lovely dimples and cute up turned nose. He'd been staring at her for days now and he didn't understand a thing about her. This train of thought was interrupted by shouting in the distance. He couldn't quite make out the words but he had the vague sense someone was calling for him._

"Hey Stupid Face. Time to get up!" John opened his eyes and saw Amy standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Love you too, Mom," he called back. She rolled her eyes theatrically and disappeared down the stairs. John sat up and stretched, his mind drifting back to his dream. It had been so clear a moment ago, but in the morning light it was already beginning to fade. He remembered pieces. The Doctor has been there of course. That was pretty common for him. And there had been ghosts, or was it monsters? And there was Clara. This wasn't the first time he had dreamed about the Doctor's pretty companion. Which probably said more about his age than anything else.

John rubbed his eyes once more and let the dream fade from him entirely before he made his way downstairs for breakfast. There was already food prepared on the counter. Amy sat at the table cutting up Anthony's eggs. "You know it is my day off," John said as he piled his plate high with food, "I should be able to get up whenever I like."

"Well not today, mister. Aunt Clara's visiting today. Your Dad will be back with her any minute. She hasn't seen you in years and I don't fancy the idea of her seeing you like that" she indicated to his pajamas with Anthony's fork, before handing it back to him.

The small boy happily shoveled eggs into his mouth and ask, "Is Clara the one who travels with the Doctor?" Both John and Amy stared at the boy. He swallowed his mouthful of food, trying to read their expressions. Finally he put it together, "that's not right, is it? Those stories are..." He was hunting for a newly acquired word, "fiction?"

"That's right, buddy," John said encouragingly.

"And that means they're not true, right?"

Amy smiled down at him, "That's right. Clara use to take care of John when he was a baby, remember?"

Anthony nodded, and then through a mouthful of toast said, "Why hasn't she ever come before?"

"She's from England, like your Dad-"

"And you," John pointed out. She shot him a dirty look. He had learned very early on how to needle his fiery, Scottish mother.

Turning back to her youngest son she added, "It's not always easy to make it across the pond."

John ate his breakfast, their conversations drawing his mind back to last night's dream. To the beautiful, 'fictional' Clara, "Is that why you named her that?" Amy looked puzzled, "The Doctor's companion, in the stories. Did you name her after this Clara?"

Amy thought about it for a moment, "Yeah, something like that." John had finished his breakfast and Amy grabbed the dishes before he had a chance to even stand. "I'll do them. You go get ready."

John took a couple steps towards the door, before turning back, "How long is Clara going to be here? Is she staying with us?"

Amy had already filled the sink with soapy water, "I'm not sure of her plans yet, honey."

"After she leaves, maybe later tonight even, can we talk about school?"

"John-"

"You were right. Working for a year, earning money, having responsibility, it's important, and I've learned a lot. But my training is going to take me years as it is and I just don't want to delay anymore. I've talked to a number of school and with my marks they'd take me in the spring term." Amy's back was to him, but he could tell by the stiffness of her movements that this conversation was upsetting her. Every time he tried to talk about the future she always got the saddest look in her eyes. He knew why. Knew how much losing their first child, Melody, had hurt his parents. And whenever he tried to talk about school or his future plans, Amy always looked like she was worried she was going to lose him too. "There are a lot of good medical schools in the city. I could still live here. You wouldn't be able to get rid of me."

Amy turned around to look at him, smiling with everything but her eyes, "You're right. Why don't we talk about this later tonight? Now go wash up and get ready. I know Clara will be extra pleased to see how you turned out."

With excitement and possibility bubbling up inside of him, John practically flew out of the kitchen. He paused at the foot of the stairs and called back, "Is she cute?" which earned him a sponge thrown at his head. With a laugh he headed for the bathroom.

* * *

Amy must have been in his room while he was in the shower, for there was a neat pile of clothing on his bed when he returned. John couldn't believe she still tried to lay out his clothes for him, he hadn't taken her suggestions since he was five years old, and he had to laugh at the smallest piece, sitting right at the top of the pile: a bow tie. He would never understand her fascination with them, or rather her fascination with him in them, for she never subjected Anthony or their father to bow ties. And no matter how much John adored his mother, he could not accept the premise that 'bow ties are cool'. Ignoring the pile altogether he dressed quickly and headed down the stairs, certain he'd heard the front door open while he was getting out of the shower. As he descended he could see everyone had assembled themselves in the kitchen.

"This is our youngest son, Anthony," he heard Amy tell the guest.

Quickly followed by a predictable shout from his bother, "I'm adopted!"

John couldn't see them yet, but he knew Clara would be looking for some sort of explanation, and right on cue Rory said, "We've always been honest with him. Told him that he's adopted, but that doesn't mean we don't love him completely and totally. And for some reason he's taken to announcing this whenever he meets someone new."

"Well I think you wound up with an lovely family," John barely noticed his brother's immediate agreement, he was too busy thinking about the voice. It must be Clara's of course, but John felt suddenly strange when he realized he knew it. He reminded himself that he must have known that voice very well when he was an infant, and even though researchers were still debating how early children begin to form and store memories, he had always been the type to learn something once and remember it forever, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that he remembered it from childhood.

He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen considering this, when Amy finally noticed him, "And here's the man himself. John, come say, 'hello' to Clara."

The guest turned around to greet John, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Dark hair, large eyes, it was Clara. The Doctor's Clara. Clara from his dreams. "Right," was all he said before running back upstairs towards his bedroom. The adults all exchanged glances and then quickly followed behind. When they entered his room, he was going through the drawers. Rory was the first to speak, "Hey Doc, what's up?" he had affectionately called John this since he was three and announced that he was going to be a doctor one day.

"Nothing, just packing."

"Packing?" Amy asked in disbelief.

John's arms were filled with clothes, but he let them fall onto his bed, "That's right, the wardrobe would have anything I need really. It's got all sorts of stuff, bound to be something that fits me."

The adults exchanged another worried look, "John," Amy started.

"I got it all wrong, didn't I? Which of us was the story. Which one was fiction." He looked right at Clara now, "You know he used to be my hero. When I was a kid I would even pretend I was him. Used to dream that he was real and this was all some trick..." his voice broke a little, and he stared painfully at his mother, "I thought he must be so wonderful, but the truth is, he's a monster."

"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that," Amy's words were forceful, yet calm. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the boy. Rory followed suit. Taking this as her cue to leave, Clara walked down the stairs.

* * *

She sat on the second last step, her chin practically resting on her knees. The position reminded her of waiting for the Doctor on their first Wednesday. Excited and anxious. Worried that he wouldn't come. Now their roles were reversed and here she was to steal him away from home, but with no promise, or even possibility of return. Having lost her mother around the same age, it grieved Clara to be taking the boy away from his whole family. But her commitment was to the Doctor, and she'd do what she had to. Sooner than she imagined she heard John and the Ponds coming down the stairs. In the end he decided against a suitcase, but he was already dressed in a black peacoat, into which Amy slipped the psychic paper. "Ready to go?" was all Clara could muster.

He nodded, but then looked back at his parents, "Do I have to go now? Can't you just leave and come back later, a few years or something?"

Clara's heart broke, but too much depended on it, she had to be honest, "I'm sorry John, but it's just too dangerous. For us and them. We really have to leave now."

He nodded, his face growing hard. For his family, he would do the right thing.

* * *

Not wanting to risk the bus again, Clara decided they would take a cab. It didn't take too long to find a taxi willing to drive them to Buffalo for an exorbitant price. John was silent. He stared out the window and didn't utter a single word. Clara knew she shouldn't be surprised, he always did know how to sulk. They had been driving for nearly four hours before he finally spoke, "All those stories they told me as a kid, were they all true?"

"Well I don't know about Santa and the tooth fairy, but the ones about the Doctor, yeah, they were true."

"They made him sounds so magnificent, but he's not, is he? He's selfish and cruel."

"John-"

"They've already lost a child, you know? How could he give them me knowing I'd just get taken away too?"

"I gave you to them."

"But it was his idea, and you know it."

"They took you gladly, overjoyed to get to know you and to get a little more time with him. They knew it was temporary."

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt," he thought back to the sadness in his mother, at her fear of his future, and suddenly understood it completely. "And anyway, it wasn't their choice, not really. I've seen the Doctor's world and the people in it. They want to impress him. To help him anyway they can. Like you. He uses people."

"Now that's quite enough, I should think. John I know this is hard, but you've got it all mixed up. The Doctor is kind and generous. He's got the biggest hearts in the whole universe, but sometimes-just like the rest of us-he needs help. He's not the bad guys here-"

Clara was cut off by a great bang, followed by the clunking sound of metal in contact with asphalt. Their driver slowing maneuvered the damaged vehicle on to the shoulder of the road. Once stopped he glance back at them, "Everyone okay? It's just a blown tired, I'll have us back on our way in no time." He stepped out of the vehicle and his passengers immediately heard gun shots. In a moment they had both ducked down flat. John sprawled between the front two seats, Clara trying her best to shield him with her body. She could make out of figure on the righthand side of the car. When no shots followed Clara grabbed John's hand and exited the vehicle on the left, keeping her head low.

"The two of you can go ahead and stand up now, dears," the pair exchanged looks. They were on the side of an interstate, surrounded by forests, and with almost no other cars on the road. Slowly they stood, their hands still locked together.

**A/N** _The Ponds' younger son is based off the unshot scene after The Angels Take Manhattan in which Brian gets a letter from Rory._


	8. What Kind of Man Are You?

**A/N**_ Had a bit of time to myself and decided to finally get this done. Just an epilogue left. Thanks for reading. _

**Chapter 8 - What Kind of Man Are You?**

"My, he did grow up, didn't he? Would hardly recognize him if it weren't for that bright hair. John, wasn't it?" Came the sickly sweet voice of the old woman from the bus. "What, nothing to say? I did so enjoy our conversations."

Clara wasn't surprise to find the that woman pointing a gun at them from the other side of the car. She knew the sight would make no sense to John but she hoped he had enough sense to assume this wasn't just some middle aged woman and that the two of them were in a great deal of danger.

"I had hoped you might pick up the Doctor on route. Then I hoped you would be so kind as to lead me to him, but I just got so tired of waiting. Been waiting the past eighteen years, you'll have to forgive me for getting a little impatient. So won't you be a dear and tell me where the Doctor is?" Clara and John stared at her stone faced. "I think you are both smart enough to realize how this is going to go if I don't get my way." Clara gripped John's hand tightly, to keep him strong and hopefully keep him from talking. "Why just look at the two of you. The impossible boy and girl. The perfect gift for a smuggler who has everything. See I was on this horrid planet for something completely different. Small potatoes really. But then I meet you two. Humans completely soaked in the background radiation of time. Now how could that be? It can't, unless someone's been traveling with you primitives. That would have to be the Doctor of course, everyone knows he harbors an abhorring sort of obsession with this place and its people. And if you know where to listen in time and space you hear some interesting things. Like claims of a wounded, potentially death Doctor. I learned that in passing just as you landed in my lap. Who could resist?" The woman had begun to move around the car slowly. Clara and John followed suit until their attacker stood in front of the car and they stood behind it. "There's no where to go I'm afraid. And correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like there's no one here to save you. This can be easy, just tell me what I wan to know."

John started to laugh, Clara and the woman stared at him in wonder, "do I amuse you, dearie?" Her tone remained sickly sweet, but was now edged with venom.

"Don't worry, I'm not laughing at you," his voice brimmed with Doctor-like confidence. "I'm laughing because I shifted the car into neutral," and before the woman could comprehend his meaning he threw all of his weight against the back of the car. Since he was still holding Clara's hand she fell against it as well and their combined mass was enough to start it rolling. John knew it wouldn't do the woman any real damage, but it caught her off guard and managed to knock her down.

John looked up at Clara, pride clearly evident on his face. Clara pulled him by their joined hands, "Run!" she shouted, leading him into the forest.

"How did I do?" he asked almost excitedly.

"This really isn't a test."

"I mean as the Doctor. That's what he would have done isn't it?"

"Pretty much, although he'd probably first try to sonic something."

They ran as fast as they could, weaving their way through trees and under branches, doing their best not to snag their feet on the undergrowth. "How far are we from Buffalo?" John asked while doing a sideways jump to avoid a rock.

"About 2 hours by car."

"And how long on foot?"

"Longer."

"Right," his legs were longer than Clara's, but after months of running with the Doctor, she had better stamina, "Do you like it?" he asked through laboured breaths.

"Like what?"

"Traveling with him?"

"That woman is after us and you want to chat?"

"Well we can't chat after we've been horribly killed, can we? Wait I've said that to you before, or he has. Only it wasn't quite you. Does all of this ever get just horribly confusing?"

"Sometimes. And yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes I like traveling with him. I love it, actually."

"Even when he gets you into situations like this?"

"John, this really isn't the time."

"Why not? I'm going to be him, don't you think it's time I got to know a little bit more about him? Learn what kind of man he is?"

"You've heard the stories, you've had the dreams, how much more do you need?"

"I need to hear it from you. He trusted your opinion, so I guess I to do. Who is he? What's he really like?"

"He's the Doctor."

"But what does that mean?"

"It means he's a good man. A savour of worlds. The best man I have ever known."

"But not an honest man."

"No," Clara said, thinking back to River and rule one, "not always."

They had scaled down a small cliff and took a moment in its shelter to catch their breaths.

"You know he promised he wouldn't do this again, become human, not after the last time."

"He didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Well it was different this time. Your parents knew the plan. No one got hurt."

"What about me?!" Clara took her eyes off of surveillance to look at John, "I'm not just some story, some Hallowe'en costume. I'm real. I have a life, and a family, and I thought I had a future. And now I have to die so that he can live." All of his anger towards the Doctor, all of the pain, suddenly Clara saw it in a whole new light. She reach up and brushed his cheek with her hand. "I had good parents. They taught me what's right, and I know that I have to do this. But forgive me for not being thrilled with the person I have to give my life for." He took off at a run, yanking Clara along after him.

For a long while the only sound they heard was their footsteps and the breaking branches below their feet. Finally John said, "The Doctor, do you like him?"

"Of course I like him," she said, pausing for a moment to get her bearings.

"No, I mean like really like him."

"John, this is still really not the time," she could see a cave in the distance that might provide some protection.

"Because he liked you. More than liked. Was it mutual?"

Clara was already running for the cave, John following blindly, having not let go of her hand since they first heard the shots. "Does that really matter now?"

"If I'm going to die, I'd like to know. I know I'm not really him, but... I'd just like to know."

"Yes. I liked him. I..." she couldn't say it. Not here. Not now that he was gone. She turned down a small hill and came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

"Well isn't that sweet. Looks like we have ourselves a little love triangle," the woman stood a couple of metres away, just down the slope. "I guess it will all work out then. All you need to give me is the Doctor, and this pretty lady is all yours." John rose to his full height, defiantly. "Or I could just shoot her. Your choice really. The Doctor or you sweetheart. Dearie, is it really a choice?"

Clara surveyed their surroundings. There had to be a way out, there always was. She looked over at John. He was staring just above the woman's head, lost in thought, seeming to consider the offer. As mad as he was at the Doctor, Clara couldn't believe he would really give him up. Her eyes followed his gaze and realized he was looking at a 'y' shaped fallen branch that had caught on another limb and now hung precariously over their attackers head. A widow maker, that's what those branches are called.

"Last chance, boy. Where is the Doctor?"

"Here," he said with a cheeky grin, "I'm the Doctor." Clara tried to stop him, but he had released her hand and was moving forward. He wasn't walking so much as leaping. He jumped just down the slope on a smaller tree that was already bent from the wind. His mass was enough to break the sapling and propel it into the branch about the woman's head, dislodging the widow maker and sending it hurling down. Clara and John approached the woman cautiously. She wasn't dead, but appeared to be immobilized and disoriented. Her gun lay a metre from her. John picked it up and casually aimed it at her head, "I don't take to kindly to anyone who threatens the people I care about." He cocked the gun, his finger on the trigger.

"No!" Clara's words gave him pause. Without lowering the gun, he stared at her incredulously, "You can't do this," she said to him in an even voice. "You wanted to know who the Doctor is. Well he's not this."

"What? A killer? Tell that to the Daleks, and the Cybermen, heck, well you're at it, tell that to the other Time Lords. The Doctor's hands are stained in blood."

"He does what he has to, but only as a last resort. Only when there's no other way. He is compassionate and merciful, and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. If he can save a life, even an unworthy one, he will. He love everything and everyone. That's the kind of man he is. What kind of man are you?"

John looked back down at their would be assailant. His gun still pointed directly at her. "I'm not too fond of the Doctor today. Don't particularly care about his worldview. But lucky for you," he said, sneering at the woman, "I do care about Clara. And what she thinks. But if you come after us again, not even she will be able to stop me. No second chances. That's the kind of man I am." He lowered the gun, grabbed Clara's hand, and began walking back towards the road.

* * *

They were able to hitch hike the rest of the way. Clara had to laugh to herself, because in the end, she didn't really need the money, John got them there with charm and a wink, and occasionally the psychic paper. She couldn't help, but laugh at the way his eyes bulged out of his head when he first walked into the TARDIS. "It really is bigger on the inside," she heard him mutter under his breath, although he denied it completely. He ran his hands over the controls, almost reverently, and for the first time since Clara had met him, he looked genuinely happy. He reached under the console and retrieved the fob watch.

"How'd you do that?" Clara asked in amazement.

"You think I don't know my own ship?" and then added more sheepishly, "or well, his ship." John stared at the watch, feeling it almost calling to him, begging for release. "Were you telling the truth before? About the Doctor, and how you felt?"

"Yes," Clara said, with a grin, "Were you?"

"Definitely," he was smiling back at her affectionately. "After this, when he... comes back. Don't let him deny it. He's good at that."

"Maybe he won't have to. He'll be a new Doctor after all. Maybe his feelings will change. It's like he said, 'everything changes'"

"No it doesn't." John ran his hands over the surface, feeling the familiar Gallifreyan script beneath his fingers. "I feel like I should say something. He always says something, doesn't he? Allons-y? Geronimo?"

"Well you're American. What about 'Yee-haw'?"

He gave her an incredulous look, "You don't know anything about Americans do you?"

She was smiling now, "'Giddy up'?"

He smiled back, "It was very nice to finally meet you, Clara Oswald."

"It has been my pleasure," Clara cupped his face in her hands.

"Giddy up!" he said as he opened the watch.


	9. Epilogue

**A/N** _Finally done! Thank you all for reading (and putting up with my slow progression). Let me know what you think. _

**Epilogue **

Although the morning had started with Martha and Mickey spending time in the TARDIS, their Sunday was surprisingly domestic, especially by their standards. They got a few errands done, did the laundry, and for the first time in a long while Sunday dinner wasn't interrupted by an alien invasion or the threat of complete global destruction. They had just finished their meal and were happily chatting at the table, procrastinating from doing the dishes. After a small lull in the conversation Martha said, " I can't believe he got married!"

Mickey rolled his eyes. This was not the first time his wife had made that same observation that evening. "I can't believe it wasn't Rose," he quickly added, hoping to needle his wife. He didn't get the reaction he was expecting.

Instead of going for the bait Martha looked lost in her thoughts, as if she had almost worked something out. "I can't believe it wasn't Clara." Mickey scuffed. "You're the one who said she was perfect for him," their morning on the TARDIS and the Doctor's new companion had already been a topic of conversation that evening.

"Well yeah I did-"

"And she was good with him. Really good."

"He was a baby."

"Exactly! There was the Doctor, completely helpless and not in control. If he had only been rendered speechless he would have been cranky and squirming, and that's if he was still an adult. Did you see him? He was calm, happy even."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the letterbox opening and something falling onto the mat in the front hall.

"Isn't it late for mail?" Mickey asked.

"And it's a Sunday," Martha laughed, until she realized the implication. The couple quickly exchanged a look and grabbed the nearest weapons. Shoulder to shoulder they cautiously approached the front door, ready for whatever device or creature might await them. Instead they saw a simple envelop, TARDIS blue in colour. Martha bent down and gingerly picked it up. She did a thorough survey of the exterior before carefully opening it. Much to her surprise it was not something threatening, or even something strange, it was simply a letter.

_Dear Martha and Mickey,_

_I've managed to retrieve John and get him back to the TARDIS without too much trouble. He's back to being the Doctor again and, in true Doctor like fashion, he's itching to take this new body for a test drive. As a result, it was a little challenging to convince him to stop by for a visit (he's as stubborn as ever). He promises we'll visit as soon as we can and I promise to make sure we arrive within your lifetime. _

_Thank you for all of your help. I know there's no way we could have done this without you. And Mickey, you're right, he only travels with the best. Hope to see you both soon. _

_Clara_

_PS If you're wondering how he turned out..._

Martha reached back into the blue envelope and retrieved a Polaroid. In the picture Clara stood next to a tall, young man with shockingly red hair. He wore corduroys, a vibrantly green christmas cardigan, and an 'I Heart New York' t-shirt. "Twelve different lifetime and still no fashion sense," Mickey laughed to himself. "Some things never change."

Martha was smiling too, but she hadn't paid any attention to his clothing. She had focused instead on how happy they looked, at the way the Doctor had turned from the camera at the last second to beam at Clara, and finally, at the very bottom of the frame where she could see they were holding hands. "You're absolutely right," she said, still staring at their interlocked fingers, "some things never do."


End file.
